


Love on a Schedule

by Mntsnflrs



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Brief Mention of Alcoholism, Doyoung hearing things he wished he couldnt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Kun speaking through his tears: I'm not stressed!, M/M, Mind Reading, side johnmark, thought hearing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27332221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mntsnflrs/pseuds/Mntsnflrs
Summary: “How do you know all of the campus goblins?”Kun looked skywards, like only God held the answer. “I wish I knew. Maybe they’re drawn to my calming aura.”“Chaos to your order?”Kun’s gaze slid from the ceiling to Doyoung’s face, eyes amused. “I have a feeling you know what that’s like too, Doyoung. The eye of the storm.”Doyoung felt his fingertips go cold. “I wouldn’t exactly say that,” he said quietly, turning back towards the front of the room. “I’ve caused a lot of chaos.”Kun hummed. “So have I,” he said. “No one is completely unproblematic. ‘No one is free of sin,’ as my Grandmother would say. It’s about how you learn and improve.” He knocked their knees together, oddly comforting. “No one is free of sin, but repeating the same sin twice is uncreative. If you’re intent on being a sinner, make yourself an interesting one.”
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Qian Kun
Comments: 48
Kudos: 379





	Love on a Schedule

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nu-exo (Nekohime)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekohime/gifts).



> Thank you so much for being so patient with me, darling! I hope you enjoy xo

“Okay, so you have a choice of five pills, and you can only choose one. They grant the powers of immortality, endless money, shapeshifting, mind reading, or flying. What would you pick?”

“Definitely shapeshifting.”

Charlotte frowned at Taeyong’s immediate answer. “Why? You didn’t even take the time to consider anything else.”

“If you shapeshift, you can just turn into a bird and then you can fly.”

Her ire deepened. “Fine. Mike, what would you pick?”

“Endless money. You could do anything with that.”

Downstairs, Charlotte’s parents were arguing. They weren’t loud, but it was at the kind of volume that seemed to hum through the walls, and it was distracting Doyoung from his own choices. Which pill would he pick?

_This is the third time this month. Is he working late? Is it something else? Mother warned me about his habits, but I was young and stubborn, I never listened…_

“I’d pick mind reading,” Charlotte said, flipping her hair back. “Then no one could ever lie to me. I’d know everyone’s dirty secrets.”

_Can she smell the perfume on me? Her nose is creasing like it always does just before she cries. I’ll say I visited my sister on the way home. She doesn’t have to know. It’s kinder if she never finds out._

“Doyoung?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Which pill would you chose?”

_I’ll stay as long as I can. When she says I have to choose, I’ll leave._

“Charlotte,” Doyoung said, “Your father is having an affair.”

-

All the blockbuster movies had lied to him. Superpowers were meant to be glorious beacons of hope and light, something to aim towards, to covet.

Doyoung ruined a marriage. A family.

He ruined his own life, too. At sixteen years old, he became known as the kid that knew too much. The kid that knew about people when he shouldn’t. His classmates couldn’t decide if it was creepy or just plain wrong, but they avoided him all the same.

Charlotte moved to a different school not long after her parents split up, but before then she’d managed to use her vague popularity to make sure that everyone knew just how weird Doyoung was.

He couldn’t blame her.

What would he have done if a classmate came to his house for the first time, newly befriended, only to make assumptions about his family that after some pressing turned out to be accurate?

At lunch, Taeyong was the only one that sat with Doyoung. “I think it was kind of obvious anyway,” he said, picking at his sandwich. He looked at Doyoung with his big, kind eyes. “Whenever we went to her house they were always arguing. I don’t think the problem is that you guessed correctly, but that you voiced it. That… was unkind.”

_But I still love you._

Maybe if Doyoung hadn’t heard that thought too, he would have gone home and requested his own school transfer. Without Taeyong, it would have felt like there was little to tether him to the life he’d already demolished.

“I didn’t mean to be unkind,” Doyoung said, quiet.

“I know,” Taeyong said, leaning over the table to squeeze Doyoung’s cold hand.

“I didn’t guess, either,” Doyoung whispered, half hoping Taeyong wouldn’t hear it. “I heard it.”

“You heard it? Who told you?”

“Both of them,” Doyoung said, looking down at his plate. He had biology after lunch, and he knew they’d be dissecting frogs. He didn’t want to eat, and he definitely didn’t want to dissect a frog. He didn’t want to say something that sounded impossible and lose Taeyong because of it, but he had to tell someone. He couldn’t deal with this alone. He didn’t want to do that, either. “Taeyong, I think there’s something wrong with me.”

Taeyong leant closer. “What is it? You can tell me anything.”

Doyoung rubbed his face and swallowed his pride, his embarrassment, his potent, electric fear. “I think I can hear thoughts.”

Taeyong leant back. He blinked once, twice. “You can?”

“Yeah.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Woah.”

“Why are you humouring me?” Doyoung snapped, impatient for the imminent fallout.

Taeyong shrugged. “You’re my best friend. You wouldn’t lie to me, not about something like this.”

“I sound like I’m delusional, Taeyong.”

“Maybe you are, but if its real to you then I’m here for you. We can figure something out.”

_Maybe I should speak to Gongmyung. He’d come back from college if he knew Doyoung needed him, if he knew what was happening at home._

“Don’t you _dare,”_ Doyoung hissed. “Gongmyung has better things to do with his time than come home and babysit me.”

Taeyong’s eyes slowly widened. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I heard you anyway. Keep Gongmyung out of this, Taeyong. I mean it.”

_That’s weird. That’s really weird. But if he can hear my thoughts does that mean he knows how long I’ve had a crush on Myung?_

Doyoung scowled. “I wish I didn’t know, but now you’ve gone and told me.”

“Oh,” Taeyong breathed. “Oh shit. You really can hear me? You… you really heard Charlotte’s parents?”

Doyoung nodded, miserable. “That was the first time. I didn’t realise what was happening. I still don’t, not really, but I know not to say anything about it now.” Before Taeyong could reply, Doyoung cut him off. “You don’t count. You’re different.”

Taeyong smiled, pink in the cheeks. “I’m honoured.”

At seventeen, Taeyong had been Doyoung’s best friend since they were five and four respectively, newly acquainted neighbours forced by their parents to play on their scooters together. Oddly enough, they’d gone through worse than latent superpowers waking up. This felt small in comparison to the fallout after Taeyong had attempted to lock Doyoung in the he’d been angry about Doyoung missing his birthday party because of a dentist appointment.

“Taeyong, what if there’s something wrong with me?”

Taeyong smiled wider. “There’s loads wrong with you, Doyoung. This probably doesn’t make the top ten, so don’t worry too much. Besides, we’re still young. You have a lot of time to figure everything out.”

It sounded reassuring from Taeyong, but when Doyoung had chanted it to himself in the dead of night, it had just sent him spiralling. It would help if he knew how to control whatever was going on, but he didn’t. He couldn’t pick and choose thoughts, it just felt like someone ran up to him and shouted things at him.

_Why does Taeyong still sit with Doyoung? He’d be better off with us._

Yeah.

It would be nicer if he could choose.

“Thanks,” he said, instead of acknowledging that most of the cafeteria thought he was a fucking frog to dissect.

“I love you,” Taeyong said, soft and genuine. “Even if you told me you liked arson, I’d still love you. I’d be worried, but I’d love you. That won’t ever change.”

It was a nice sentiment, but it wasn’t Taeyong’s family that Doyoung had ruined. Not yet, anyway, which was the scariest thought. He was sixteen and he’d already ruined lives. What the hell was he going to do as an adult?

-

Hand out leaflets for a club he wasn’t a part of, apparently.

“Join the basketball team!” he said, as chipper as possible whilst yearning to pull his own teeth out.

“Join the basketball team!” Johnny said, nudging Doyoung with his shoulder. “We’re not as scary as Doyoung makes us seem, I promise!”

A couple of students laughed as they passed, one taking pity and pocketing a leaflet on her way to class.

“If I’m showing you up, why’d you ask me to help?” Doyoung muttered, trying to put a leaflet in a lecturer’s coat pocket without being seen. When the man turned around, Doyoung just smiled innocently. “Basketball?”

“No thank you,” he said, expression dull. “I have two replacement knees.”

“Good for you!” Doyoung said, putting his foot directly into his mouth. “I mean… have a good day. Sir.”

He didn’t have to be a mind reader to know Johnny was laughing at him. He just had to turn around and see it, as obnoxious as the image was.

“You do know that Thompson is the head of the geology department, right?”

“I study literature, not rocks,” Doyoung said, too dead inside to keep up the charade of positivity. “Unless he starts throwing them at me, I doubt his expertise will have much bearing on my university experience.”

_If someone doesn’t take a fucking leaflet I will either cry or scream and then cry._

Doyoung blinked. “Huh?”

Johnny looked at him oddly. “What? I didn’t say anything.”

There were many students in their vicinity, but most were between classes, gathered to chat with friends or jog to their lunch date. Doyoung couldn’t see anyone else handing out leaflets. “Are any other societies advertising right now?”

“Why would I know?”

Doyoung rolled his eyes. “Because you’ve fucked half of campus and you’ve been fucked by the other half. You know people in every single club.”

Johnny pouted, annoyingly cute for a man the height of an oak tree. “Doyoung, are you slut shaming me?”

“No, Johnny, I’m acknowledging you have a wide field of acquaintances, and I’m asking you very nicely if there’s another club advertising for the freshmen.”

“Well if you put it like that, then yeah. The dance team has a table just inside the union building, I think.”

Doyoung weighed up mercy for a stranger against the untold joys of handing out leaflets with Johnny. It was an easy winner, despite how weak he was for his friends. He passed his stack to Johnny. “I’m going to take a look.”

“What, and leave me here?” Johnny’s sad frown could have killed a lesser man, but in their year dorming together, Doyoung had seen Johnny with his head in a toilet and vomit in his hair. He was not a lesser man.

“I won’t be long.” He flicked his head to the union building. “There’s barely anyone over there, and we’re struggling enough out here. I feel bad.”

“Since when have you had a heart?”

“I’ve always had one, you just never deserved my kindness.”

“Ah. Fair enough.” Johnny grinned, not at all offended. He’d had plenty of time to familiarise himself with Doyoung’s special spiky kind of friendship. “Bring me a coffee when you come back?”

_I hope he takes a while. He deserves a break, but I’d die before I told him that._

Doyoung softened. “Fine. Anything else?”

Johnny pressed his index fingers together and made a kissy face. “If they have any cookies on the counter maybe a couple of those too?”

“Okay,” Doyoung said, checking his jeans for his wallet. “Cookies and coffee, I can do that. See you in a little bit.”

Johnny waved. “Bye! Stay safe, traveller.”

Doyoung didn’t bother to acknowledge Johnny’s fantasy NPC roleplay, instead threading himself through the milling crowds towards the union building.

Doyoung had been right, too. The crowds thinned until there were only a handful of people near the union building, most students preferring the side of campus where a majority of the cafes were sat. The union building had little to offer other than empty office rooms and a single, overpriced cafeteria.

And a table with one sad looking man sat slowly waving a sign that said, ‘Join the dance team!’

It wasn’t until Doyoung got closer that he recognised the man to be Kun, a fellow literature student that seemed to be just as stressed by groupwork as Doyoung was. They were friendly but not friends, sitting apart in lectures but always willing to share droll glances when one of their fellow students inevitably messed up their presentation on a novel they never bothered to read.

Kun’s eyes lit up when he saw Doyoung’s approach, though they dimmed again once they realised who he was. “Oh, hello. Are you here for an appointment with one of the union reps?”

His lack of enthusiasm for Doyoung’s presence smarted a little. “I’m here for a leaflet.”

Kun blinked. He was handsome in an annoying way, shorter than Doyoung but filled out in all the best ways. Square shoulders, square jaw, cute nose. “You want to join the dance team?”

“Maybe,” Doyoung said, narrowing his eyes. “Why so cagey? Don’t you want me in your dance team?”

Kun faltered. “I just… I saw you handing out leaflets for the basketball team with Johnny. I didn’t think you’d have time for both.”

“I’m not on the basketball team, I’m just helping Johnny out since Jaehyun had a seminar and couldn’t make it in time.”

“Oh,” Kun said weakly. He handed Doyoung a leaflet. “Well, here you go. Sorry for assuming.”

“It’s okay,” Doyoung said, losing his urge to fight. “Um, if you want some advice though, advertising in the union building never does well. You’re better off handing out leaflets outside near the cafes, where Johnny and I are.”

Kun nodded. He closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. It messed up his wavy hair and made his glasses bob, but he still looked aggravatingly good. Like a sexy librarian stressed about the future of paperback novels in a technological world. “I didn’t want to advertise here,” he admitted. “Ten was meant to be manning the table, but he called in sick at the last second and begged me to take over. I warned him that he hadn’t cooked that chicken well enough, but he didn’t listen.”

Doyoung knew Ten. It wasn’t a particular feat, because Ten was about as popular throughout the campus as Johnny was. A shame then, that he liked tormenting Doyoung so much. Every time they crossed paths in a bar, despite having no particular friendship to base the interactions upon, they always ended up throwing back competitive shots and being nursed through their hangovers by a very hassled Taeyong. What Doyoung knew of Ten could be summed up in the words sly, supportive, and thoughtless, so food poisoning didn’t seem too farfetched.

“I’m sorry,” Doyoung said, unsure as what else to say. It was sad that both were so easily swayed when their unreliable friends were quick to call on them for aid. Sad, or funny. Maybe somewhere in the middle. Fad. Sunny.

“It’s okay,” Kun said gently. He smiled, light and easy. “It isn’t so bad.”

_It’s bad. It is so, so bad. I want to eat these leaflets._

Doyoung laughed suddenly, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. Fuck. “I, uh. I’m not laughing at you; I’m just laughing at the situation. We match.”

Kun’s smile widened ever so slightly. “I guess we do. Too begrudgingly nice to say no to people.”

Doyoung nodded vigorously. “Exactly.” He looked for an excuse to keep the conversation rolling, for the sake of Kun’s diminishing stability at the hands of his empty stall. “I didn’t realise you were in the dance team.”

Kun cocked his head, hair falling into his eyes. It wasn’t like Doyoung had never seen him before, it was just annoying that now, of all times, he appeared more attractive than ever. What was it about unravelling sanity that appealed to Doyoung? Maybe he was just a masochist deep down. Someone that wanted something . “It’s not really a surprise you don’t know. I don’t know what clubs you’re a part of, either.”

Doyoung felt the edges of a fresh frown bracket into his cheeks. “I’m not big on clubs. I’m in the book club and I’m on the swim team, but not competitively. I don’t like the rigidity of it.”

Kun laughed. “So you’re not into clubs, but you are in two of them. That makes sense.”

“Shut up. You know what I meant.”

“Did I?”

Almost as disconcerting as the thoughts Doyoung heard were the emotions that came with them. Feeling Kun’s gentle humour while he stared at Doyoung with a straight face felt like cheating in a game he didn’t know he was playing. “You knew. You knew exactly what I meant.”

Kun leant back, grinning. “Maybe I did. Any other activities I should know about before teasing you, Kim Doyoung?”

“Does reading minds count as a hobby?”

Kun laughed. “Only if magic does too.”

“Magic?”

“Yeah. Hold on, I’ll show you.” He bent down, rummaging for something under the table before emerging with a deck of cards. He shuffled the pack before lying them flat on the table. “Pick a card.”

Doyoung stared down at the cards. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m very serious. Pick a card, Doyoung.”

Doyoung picked a random card from the table.

“Great. Now look at the card.”

He looked. It was an eight of clubs. “Okay.”

“Put it back in the pack and shuffle them yourself.”

Doyoung did as he was told, passing the deck back to Kun when he was done. It would have been a good time to hear Kun’s thoughts, but of course things didn’t work like that. God forbid the unknown forces of the universe gave Doyoung a gift that would actually be useful when he wanted it to be.

Kun put the deck back on the table, splitting it into two at a random point. He turned away to sneeze for a second, waving a hand and apologising when he turned back to the table. His eyes were watering. “It’s so dusty in here, sorry. Do you have a tissue?”

“Oh, sure.” Doyoung reached into the pocket of his jacket for the pack of tissues he always carried, instead feeling something slightly unyielding. Something that felt like a card. “Oh, fuck _you.”_ He pulled the card out of his pocket, and there it was. The eight of clubs. “How the hell did you do that?”

Kun smiled sunnily. “A magician never gives away he secrets.”

“Even to his only bearable course-mate?”

“Even then.”

“Fine,” Doyoung said, mulish. “I guess I’ll buy Johnny’s coffee and go Google magic tricks.”

Kun laughed. “Sorry to make your life harder. I should have known from our seminars that you like your answers straightforward.”

Doyoung liked everything straightforward. Unfortunately, life wasn’t designed to please him. “It’s fine. It gives me something to focus on instead of the leaflets, I guess.”

“I should thank you, actually. I only have twenty minutes left, so you’ve made my last hour much more pleasant than the first two.”

“It’s okay,” Doyoung said, uncomfortable. “No need to thank me. Maybe I’ll join the dance team.”

“Ten’s the one that vets the recruits, so good luck.”

“Oh. Maybe I won’t.”

Kun giggled, oddly cute. “He’s a sweetheart really, he just likes to annoy people. You’re easy to annoy, and he preys on that. He always comes to lunch with stories about aggravating you, and I have to pretend like I haven’t heard them before.”

Doyoung grunted. “You’re a stronger man than I am, Qian Kun. I have enough trouble looking after Johnny.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m stronger. Johnny seems like a lot to deal with too.”

“He’s better since he started dating Mark, but you’re right. Our first year…” Doyoung shuddered. “The situations I got him out of still give me nightmares.” His phone buzzed, jolting him out of his hazy, disgusting memories. “Shit, I should get back to him. Nice to see you, Kun.”

“Sure,” Kun said, gentle. “Nice to see you too, Doyoung. Take care.”

“You too.”

And maybe it was because handing out leaflets was so soul crushing, or maybe it was because Johnny had his tongue in Mark’s mouth upon Doyoung’s approach with coffee and cookies, but Doyoung found that the rest of the day dragged even more slowly. As quiet and dusty as the union building was, Kun had been surprisingly fun company. A pretty little flower growing in a pile of manure.

-

Doyoung was no optimist, but it felt like the start of something. Maybe something good.

The following Monday, Kun sat one seat over from Doyoung in their lecture hall, passing him a genuine smile before turning back to the front of the class.

They didn’t talk, or pass notes, or play footsie under the table, but Doyoung wouldn’t have wanted that anyway. He preferred distance, a cautious respect.

Kun seemed to agree.

They sat and listened to the lecture, occasionally exchanging glances whenever something of dubious morality came up in the discussion of Hemingway.

At the end of the lecture, they said their goodbyes and went on with their lives. Doyoung was inevitably dragged to a bar with Johnny and Taeyong, only to drink too much because of Yuta and Ten, spend the rest of the night repenting his hubris, and turn up half-dead to their next morning lecture to find Kun’s smile something akin to cold water splashed on his face. Refreshing, sure, but still overwhelming when your stomach is empty and churning, the smell of tequila leaking from your pores.

“Rough night?” Kun whispered. He laughed quietly at Doyoung’s lifeless nod. “Ten?”

Doyoung nodded again. He didn’t mind the talk since their lecturer had yet to arrive, but he also wasn’t sure he’d actually make it until she did turn up. The vomit inside of Doyoung’s fragile form was rising, just like sea levels. “I hate him. I really, really hate him. How the hell does he recover from food poisoning fast enough to down vodka like its water the next evening? He’s a fucking machine.”

Kun shook his head. “It’s not that, he just has no self-preservation. He knew I’d be busy with accounts so he slithered his way out of our apartment before I could nag him back into his bed.”

Doyoung raised a brow. “Does he usually sneak off to parties without you?”

“Only when he knows he’s too ill to be attending.” Kun scrubbed a hand through his hair. He didn’t look as bad as Doyoung, but then again, there were corpses that probably looked fresher. But Kun did look tired. The kind of tired that said he’d spent too many long nights in front of a computer screen, eyes narrowed.

“Accounting?” Doyoung couldn’t help but ask. “You’re a literature student.”

“Yeah, but I do a lot of society and club work.” Kun smiled faintly. “Not to generalise, but I don’t think a single member of the volleyball team knows how to count past ten. Either that, or Donghyuck is hiding all of his smartest members so that they can party while I work out the cost of their jerseys and dry-cleaning.”

 _Donghyuck._ Just the name made Doyoung want to scrub his knuckles into that fluffy brown hair. “How do you know all of the campus goblins?”

Kun looked skywards, like only God held the answer. “I wish I knew. Maybe they’re drawn to my calming aura.”

“Chaos to your order?”

Kun’s gaze slid from the ceiling to Doyoung’s face, eyes amused. “I have a feeling you know what that’s like too, Doyoung. The eye of the storm.”

Doyoung felt his fingertips go cold. “I wouldn’t exactly say that,” he said quietly, turning back towards the front of the room. “I’ve caused a lot of chaos.”

Kun hummed. “So have I,” he said. “No one is completely unproblematic. ‘No one is free of sin,’ as my Grandmother would say. It’s about how you learn and improve.” He knocked their knees together, oddly comforting. “No one is free of sin, but repeating the same sin twice is uncreative. If you’re intent on being a sinner, make yourself an interesting one.”

-

Kun’s Grandmother held a great deal of wisdom, apparently. Doyoung wished he could say the same about himself, but after two hours of holding back the need to vomit, he trudged back to his dorm only to immediately fall into that lifeless hangover void of self-hatred, not quite nap-worthy, but definitely lying-face-down-on-the-bed-worthy.

_Should I get a cat? The landlord wouldn’t have to know. He never inspects the apartment anyway._

Doyoung rolled onto his back and texted Jungwoo, the sweet engineering student in the apartment across the hall. _‘Landlord is allergic to cats. If you get one he’ll definitely notice. I can sense you plotting.’_

_Oh, Doyoung texted me!_

Doyoung rolled back onto his front and sighed into his pillow, yearning for sleep but well aware he was past that. The error of grabbing coffee during the lecture break was a common one, and he was bound to do the same thing the following day. He was nothing if not a man of routine mistakes.

Face down, breathing in his floral fabric conditioned pillows, he acknowledged that despite his mood and his fragile stomach, things could be worse. He could have thrown up and ruined the floral scent. He could have made a fool of himself the previous night, instead of just laughing while Johnny did it. He could have been flirted with again, for once almost convinced of his own appeal only for thoughts not his own to swim through his head, whispering, _I don’t give a shit about your favourite books, I just want to fuck_.

Yeah. Things could definitely be worse.

-

Doyoung seemed to pick up a routine somewhere amidst the bouts of chaos. He’d go to class as he always did, but he’d find the seat next to Kun. They’d partner up for group work and be glad that at least one other person knew what they were meant to be doing. Sometimes they’d get coffee after class, and sometimes Doyoung would pretend he didn’t know what Kun was thinking when he got flustered about the shape and grace of Doyoung’s hands.

Some friendships started suddenly. Doyoung had met Johnny the day they’d found out they’d be sharing a dorm, and from those first minutes together Doyoung had been laughing like he’d always known Johnny, like they’d always been friends.

Things with Kun were different. Not bad, just – different. He was more subdued than Johnny, though the same could be said for most people. Not all friendships were immediate, life altering moments in time. Not all meaningful relationships struck like lightning.

Kun wasn’t shy, but he didn’t speak all that often. He had a quiet kind of serenity around him, one that only seemed to dissipate when someone challenged him or teased from a particular angle. The more time they spent together, the more Doyoung realised that he and Ten were the most adept at riling Kun up, for better or for worse. Even then, the bouts were infrequent. Most of the time Doyoung spent with Kun was in classes, or just outside of them, consolidating notes or proofreading essays.

Outside of education, they met at parties, at bars, at lunch. They sat together, serene while Johnny, Yuta, Jaehyun, and Ten inevitably got all of them kicked out of wherever they were, Mark and Taeyong the only ones sensible enough to feel embarrassed, but they were never quite embarrassed enough to actively prevent any of the chaos.

As a group they shared that, it seemed. They all had a morbid curiosity for things going downhill.

It was why Doyoung said nothing, even when he probably should have made a point of asking Kun about the bags underneath his eyes, a deep, bruised purple.

As a young man plagued by his own faults, Doyoung was no stranger to the bone deep ache of a sleepless night. He was no stranger to the fatigue that hung heavy off of a person’s frame, weakening shoulders and causing even the strongest hands to tremble. He knew exhaustion, and he knew it well.

He knew what to look for in both appearance and action, especially in someone making an active effort to hide their troubles.

Over the months of tentative friendship, Doyoung had come to learn the various causes of Kun’s tiredness, and while none appeared particularly troubling, the sheer volume of them all seemed to amass into one insurmountable crag. Kun seemed content to fling himself from the heights, dedicated to his various commitments. Instead of Sisyphus rolling his boulder, Kun was hiking up his hill of obligations, throwing himself from the heights, landing painfully at the bottom in the pit of exhaustion that left him drifting into sleep upright during lectures, only to push himself up again and continue the same path, the same upward hike.

Doyoung poked Kun’s shoulder when his eyes closed for slightly too long, and Kun blinked himself awake, startled.

He peered at Doyoung, unfocused behind his glasses. “Did I miss anything?”

“No,” Doyoung said, clenching his pen. As someone that worked himself too hard and viewed himself too harshly, he knew exactly how much Kun _didn’t_ want him to mention the lack of sleep hanging grey over his aura. “Are you free after the lecture? We could grab some lunch.”

Kun nodded, but when his brain caught up with his body, he shook his head. “I have to conduct for the wind orchestra today.”

If his pen wasn’t metal, a special engraved present from Gongmyung for Doyoung’s eighteenth birthday, he would have either snapped it or thrown it at Kun. “What time?”

“One.”

“That gives you half an hour. Are you sure you can’t squeeze in lunch?”

Kun looked away, and Doyoung received the barest glimpse of his thoughts. There was no distinct message, just a fuzz, an undiscernible hum of someone rifling through too many pathways at once. If Doyoung’s brain was a neat filing cabinet, Kun’s was a magician’s hat. He could either pull out genius or a clueless white rabbit.

“I think I could fit lunch in,” Kun said eventually. “Wait, I said I’d help Yuta with his - no, that’s at three. Sorry.” He shook his head again, then attempted a smile that looked more like a grimace. “Lunch would be nice. Let’s do that.”

So after the lecture they packed up and headed to the nearest cafeteria to buy lunch. Kun ate his salad slowly, staring at nothing.

Doyoung didn’t know what to do. If it were Taeyong working himself to death as he often did, Doyoung would just sling him over his shoulder and force him into a bubble bath until the lavender soap sent him into hazy dreams.

Kun would probably smack Doyoung if he tried to throw him over his shoulder.

“You look like a camel,” Doyoung said.

Kun’s gaze snapped to attention. “Excuse me?”

“The way you’re chewing so slowly, like a camel. Or livestock.”

_Fuck you._

Doyoung winced. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean it as an insult, I just find it odd.”

“The way I eat?”

“The way you agreed to lunch but you’re barely eating. The way you agree to everything.”

Kun sat back, salad entirely discarded. He had the perfect face for glaring, angles sharp enough to cut, features soft enough for blunt impact. “We’re at university,” he said, almost as slow as the way he had been eating. “If not now, then when?”

Doyoung looked down at his sandwich, frustrated. “I understand that,” he said, not quite sure how to make his point. “I understand that you want to do as much as you can, both for yourself and for other people, and I understand the sense of obligation that comes with friendship. We were both helping friends with those pamphlets, if you remember.”

A muscle twitched in Kun’s jaw. “I remember.”

“I just think you need to pace yourself. Exhausting your mind and your body doesn’t help anyone, and it certainly doesn’t benefit you.”

Kun smiled, polite and plastic. “Thank you for the advice, Doyoung. I’ll be sure to remember your advice if I ever overwhelm myself.”

-

Part of Doyoung’s problem was his mouth. Even before God had him and left him to the role of Trojan Cassandra, his mouth had been too big, too loud, for most people’s comfort.

At five years old, he’d asked his mother over a family dinner why it was she’d asked him to pretend that his cousin’s hamster had been rehomed instead of admitting it had died. It would have been fine if he’d thought to ask in privacy, but his cousin wasn’t so happy to find out her pet wasn’t in a hamster sanctuary. Especially at the dining table, her dismayed parents sat across from their nephew that had ruined the kind lie.

It wasn’t that Doyoung didn’t care about manners, about respect – he cared a little too much for some people. Why lie? Why dance around what it was you wanted to say? Things were easier for everyone if people were open and honest from the start. Hard truths were better in the long term than soft lies, even if they hurt to begin with.

He’d always thought so, anyway. Until he split up a marriage and ruined an entire family.

He still had his big mouth, but now he was afraid too. The worry of overstepping and the need to help warred inside of him, especially when the people he cared about were damaging themselves or others. Dynamics were twisty things, and the only person he’d never had to worry about was Taeyong.

No matter how easily other relationships came, the fear of ruining everything came too. It came in freshmen year when Johnny had seemed precariously close to alcoholism and Doyoung didn’t know how to bring it up without making everything worse. It came up when Ten fell out with his sister in a spectacular manner and, too upset and alone without his family, he’d refused to ring her and just talk it out.

“I love you,” Ten had said, his eyes red and watery, “But you’re not right about everything, Doyoung.”

All the while, his thoughts had been a constant, grieving chant of, _you’re right, you’re right, I know you’re right._

The point being: he could be correct, but people didn’t necessarily want that. He could tell Johnny he was drinking too much, but Johnny already knew that. He could tell Ten he was acting childish, but Ten already knew that.

He could tell Kun he was overworking himself, but Kun already knew that. He didn’t want to hear it from Doyoung.

They were friends, sure but not close enough for that.

They stared at one another, and sometimes when they were with friends their hands would brush and linger, but they still weren’t close enough for that.

And Kun was –

He wasn’t like most of Doyoung’s friends.

As someone with a loud and honest mouth, Doyoung somehow seemed to attract charismatic idiots that said whole paragraphs without actually stating anything. It was a talent in itself, one that Doyoung didn’t possess, but something he was learning to deal with.

Kun was an unfamiliar middle ground, charismatic but honest. It was a rare combination, and one Doyoung didn’t know how to deal with.

Any attempts at gentle suggestion were brushed off, but Kun bristled at Doyoung’s harsh honesty too.

“I appreciate your concern,” he said one day, Doyoung having found him between his tutoring sessions. His baby pink sweater looked cosy, but it hung off him oddly, like he was losing weight. Either that or losing spirit. “But I’m fine. Staying busy keeps me happy.”

With Johnny or Ten he would have argued back. With Taeyong he would have pushed. With Kun, he didn’t know what to do other than let it go. “Okay,” he said, weak and annoyed at himself for it.

Kun had smiled, pleased with the acquiesce. “Are you coming out tonight? Yuta found a bar that does pitcher cocktails for half price on Fridays.”

Doyoung had no plans, but he liked it that way. Going out with friends was fun, but so was lying in bed with cookie crumbs on his chest as he debated watching a film or falling asleep at 7pm. “Sure,” he said, wishing for once that he could read his own mind and understand what the fuck he was thinking about when he said things.

Kun smiled wider, cute. His glasses were slipping again, and Doyoung wanted to put his hands on that pink sweater, to see if it was as soft as it looked. To see if Kun was as thin as he looked. To see if he’d fracture beneath Doyoung’s palms or stand solid. “Great!” Kun exclaimed. He checked his watch, smile fading briefly. “I have to go, Renjun’s session is about to start. I’ll see you tonight!”

“Sure,” Doyoung said. It felt like Kun’s exhaustion had transferred to Doyoung for a brief second, like he wanted to do nothing more than curl up on the floor and decay into the dirty carpet. “See you tonight.”

-

With literally no contact between meeting Kun and going home, Johnny still somehow knew to pick Doyoung up at 8pm. He let himself into Doyoung’s apartment, more than content to intrude, and sat on the couch until Doyoung emerged from his bedroom, dressed and ready to leave, not half as surprised to see Johnny as he should have been.

“I wish you’d knock,” he said, picking up his lace up boots. He liked wearing them for nights out just in case there were any mouthy idiots he needed to kick.

“What’s the point in knocking if I have a key?” Johnny asked, long arms across the back of the couch, his legs spread.

Doyoung curled his lip. “The key is for emergencies.”

“Making sure you’re awake is enough of an emergency for me.” Johnny looked him up and down. “You look hot. What’s the occasion?”

“We’re going out.” Doyoung looked down at himself, suddenly self-conscious. He didn’t usually wear jeans so tight, or shirts so… cropped. He’d just wanted to look good tonight. He wanted to know what Kun thought when they met up.

“You only dress like this if you want dick.” Johnny smiled, mischievous. “Whose dick do you want?”

“Not yours.”

“Good, mine is taken,” Johnny said, smile morphing into a grin. “Jaehyun will be there tonight. Is it him?”

Doyoung rolled his eyes as he bent down to tie his laces. “Do you think I have a death wish? I know Yuta’s like two flirting sessions away from behind Jaehyun over the nearest surface, I’m not getting involved in that.”

Johnny shrugged. “You’re sexy. They’d probably be down for a threesome.”

“I’m not down for one, Johnny.”

“So who is it then?”

Doyoung sighed, exasperated. “Why are you so curious?”

“Because the only other person it could be is Kun, and I want you to admit you like him.”

Doyoung felt his heart contract. “Johnny-“

“Taeyong said you’ve always been constipated when it comes to feelings. If you like Kun, you should tell him.”

“I’m just concerned.”

Johnny rolled his eyes, fond. “If you’re concerned about him, tell him that too. There’s a difference between concern and preaching, you know. You’re good at both, Doyoung, but there’s a time and a place for everything. You can have feelings for someone and still worry about them. For someone so good at reading people, you’re not good at reading situations.”

“I know that,” Doyoung said, faint. “Believe me, I know.”

-

He’d been in relationships before, but they never really worked. Doyoung was a perfectionist, and if he wasn’t entirely matched, he got bored. If his partner lied, and Doyoung heard the truth, he got hurt. He got mean.

He worried in a detached, lonely kind of way, that he’d grow into someone old and ignorantly happy. Someone with a husband and kids and a pet, someone that wouldn’t have a stranger’s child tell him his husband was having an affair, but would find out himself, lying in bed with the man he loved only to hear wistful thoughts about the texture of someone else’s thigh, the smell of a lover’s perfume, the yearning to leave but the cowardice to stay.

Relationships were fear inducing.

Trusting people was a terrifying prospect Doyoung was only half convinced by.

Despite that, Kun was somehow a man that demanded trust. It was in his calm, exhausted aura. His kind eyes, his quick words, his careful honesty. He didn’t lie, but his words were designed not to hurt.

Kun was the equilibrium Doyoung had never quite managed.

“He has tact,” Johnny said on the drive to the bar. “That’s not impossible, you’re just comfortable in your bluntness.”

Doyoung stuck his tongue out and then turned back to the window. “Why’re you driving, anyway?”

“I’m not drinking tonight,” Johnny said, pulling into the parking lot. “Mark and I are going for a hike tomorrow, so I don’t wanna ruin that with a hangover.”

“Cute,” Doyoung mumbled, silently grateful for the way Johnny loved Mark so much that he’d managed to pull himself together entirely.

That was real love, he supposed. When someone didn’t force you to change, but you wanted to. Love was wanting to improve yourself to make sure you and the people you cared for were as happy as possible.

-

Kun looked good.

He always looked good, but now he looked _good_ _._

In the way that his character had equilibrium, his style seemed to follow. Cosy Kun, the sweater student in slacks and sneakers, was the Kun that Doyoung studied in lectures, his gaze caressing the soft sweep of his nose in profile, the gentle swell of his lips. Hot Kun, the demon in tight trousers and a shimmery, dark shirt, was someone Doyoung was intent on pretending didn’t exist. For his own sanity’s sake, if nothing else.

As always, entering a bar felt like entering a world of disconcerting asmr. The hum of chatter and the loud bass of music didn’t drown out the voices in Doyoung’s head, each whisper warring for attention. It was only at times like this he became overwhelmed, like the close proximity and the alcohol made people more brazen with their thoughts.

_Why is she drinking wine? She gets so emotional when she drinks wine_ _._

_Damn, I spent way too much on that beer. I’ll have to eat ramen for like a week after this, no way can I afford vegetables now._

_God, I think I’m in love with Mark Lee. I think I’m really in love with Mark Lee._

And then, in the direction of their waiting friends, a quiet, subdued thought that penetrated the fog.

 _Oh. Doyoung looks beautiful_.

It gave him courage. Courage he didn’t know he wanted. Courage he desperately needed.

Johnny led him to the table where Taeyong, Ten, Yuta, Jaehyun, Mark, and Kun were sat, each with their own drinks acquired.

Kun pushed a small pitcher towards Doyoung with a polite smile and heat in his cheeks. “I ordered for you already,” he said, looking anywhere but Doyoung’s eyes. “I, um, remember you mentioning you like Long Island Iced Tea.”

“Thank you,” Doyoung said, taking the pitcher and the empty glass. He waited until Kun met his eyes to continue. “I’ll buy you your next drink.”

Ten batted his lashes. “Will you be buying mine?”

“No.”

Ten pouted. “Mean. Isn’t it meant to be chicks over dicks?”

Luckily, Kun smacked Ten before Doyoung made the attempt. “Go flirt with Taeyong if you’re that bored,” Kun said, glowering.

Ten rolled his eyes. “You two are the worst. Grumpy old men… wait, you’re perfect for each other. Have fun!” He kissed Kun’s cheek, blew Doyoung a kiss, and then deposited himself into Taeyong’s lap, immediately stealing whatever drink was closest to his grabby little hands.

Doyoung sipped his iced tea cocktail and wondered who it would be that had to carry Ten home at the end of the evening.

“Probably Johnny.”

He blinked, looking up at Kun. “Excuse me?”

“Johnny will probably be the one to take him home.”

Doyoung felt his eyes widen. “How did you…”

Kun laughed. “You’re an open book sometimes, Doyoung. The pity in your eyes when you looked at Ten could only mean you were wondering who would bear his weight on the way home.”

“Oh,” Doyoung said, prickly with relief. If, by some chance, Kun could also read minds, he’d be horrified by what he found in Doyoung’s brain. “Haha… yeah.”

“It’s fine,” Kun said, smiling soft. “We talked earlier about getting home. I’ll probably have to leave early to finish up some risk assessments for the rugby team’s camping trip, so Johnny said he’d make sure Ten got home safe at the end of the evening.”

Doyoung looked to Ten, who was smothering Taeyong in chaste kisses, his eyes sparkling as Taeyong melted further and further into his seat. It was rare that Doyoung caught sight of Ten’s thoughts, but when he did, they were fast. Fleeting and chaotic. His brain was as busy as a highway, leaving Doyoung dizzy from the briefest of glimpses. He was a good person, though. Prideful, but good. Too good at times.

But then again, most of Doyoung’s friends were.

From Mark, youngest of the group, soft in the eyes for Johnny, to Yuta, loud and mischievous but as protective as a lion. They were all good people.

Doyoung took a sip of his drink

_I like his smile. I love his laugh._

Doyoung looked up from his glass to find Kun staring at him. He was blushing, but his gaze held firm.

“Hi,” Doyoung said, a little dumb.

“Hi,” Kun said. He frowned, though his eyes were light with humour. “I can’t believe you said I looked like a camel.”

Doyoung groaned, laughing. “I didn’t mean it like that! You know I didn’t mean it!”

Kun laughed too. “I know you didn’t mean it. I just like teasing you.”

“Believe me, I’ve noticed,” Doyoung said dryly. “Most people do.”

“You’re easy to tease,” Kun said, unapologetic. “You take everything very seriously.”

Doyoung couldn’t help but snort. “Says the walking talking extra-curricular timetable.”

Kun winced, and Doyoung’s humour drained as quickly as it had arrived. He could tell by the way Kun took a long sip of his drink that Doyoung had struck a nerve. “We’ve been over this,” Kun said, quiet. “I like to keep busy.”

Doyoung thought of Johnny’s advice, easy-going but piercing.

‘There’s a difference between concern and preaching.’

“Okay,” Doyoung said. “We won’t talk about it anymore.”

But Kun didn’t smile this time. He wasn’t happy with Doyoung’s quick surrender. “I know I must look like a mess to you, but I’m very happy with my life,” Kun said. “I’m no Kim Doyoung, intelligent and tall and beautiful, but I get by as I am quite well without advice, thank you.”

_I’m not beneath you._

Doyoung felt his eyes widen. If he’d looked to the side, he would have noticed that half of their friends had left for the smoking area, the other half pooled at the bar ordering more drinks. As it was, he didn’t look. He couldn’t look anywhere other than Kun, soft, gorgeous Kun, who was doing his best to remain composed even as his hurt throbbed through the air.

Then, like lightning, or God, or something more realistic like common sense, more of Johnny’s advice came back to Doyoung.

‘If you’re concerned about him, tell him that too.’

“I don’t say this shit because I pity you or I think you could do better,” Doyoung said. “I say it because I’m worried about you. Not just your health, which no matter what you say is being impacted by such a hectic schedule – but also your mental wellbeing. There’s a thin line between staying busy and being overwhelmed, and you constantly tread that line. What happens when you fall off, when you get buried underneath everything?” Doyoung shook his head. “Kun, this isn’t about me wanting to hear myself talk, about imparting words of wisdom onto the lower plebs. I’m just a guy that learnt the hard way that having fingers in all the pies isn’t the best way to live.”

Kun frowned, though it was more a crumple of tiredness than unhappiness. “What pies did you have fingers in?”

Doyoung tapped his fingers on the table, debating whether to lie. In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Kun deserved better than bullshit. “In high school, I was so determined to be successful, you know? I joined every club I could. I tried to make friends everywhere too, despite the fact that I was awkward and too tall. Taeyong helped because that’s who he is as a person, and eventually I got kind of popular. Not hugely so, but we were invited to a popular girl’s house for a couple of drinks, and that was meant to be the doorway, I guess. I wasn’t really thinking at the time because I felt like everything was going pretty well.” He took a sip of his drink before continuing. “I found out her father was having an affair, and I told her. I was shunned for that. She moved schools, her parents got divorced, and everyone started to avoid me.” He looked across the room, to where Taeyong was helping Taeil pass around drinks. “Other than Taeyong, that is. And looking back, I don’t blame any of those kids. I was thoughtless in blurting that shit out, especially considering it was none of my business. I ruined a family because of my own thoughtlessness, my own bemusement with other aspects of life. When you focus on too much at once, you become clumsy. You become overwhelmed, whether you know it or not. Things bleed into each other, the waters get muddy, and you can’t see what you’re swimming towards.”

Kun sat, silent and staring.

“I’m not saying you’ll ruin a family,” Doyoung said, his own awkwardness catching back up to his mouth. “But no one works at their best and their happiest when they’re stretched thin. Shit slips through the cracks, and before you know it, you’re somewhere you thought you’d never be, looking back at how fleeting and impermanent everything you once thought was important truly is.”

Kun threw back his drink, emptying the glass in one long go. “Do you want to go somewhere?” he asked suddenly. “I can’t fucking stand the noise. I want to eat something greasy.”

Doyoung never really intended to say no, but seeing Johnny at the bar wiggling his brows cemented the need to immediately leave. “Yeah, sounds good. Lead the way.”

So Doyoung allowed Kun to lead him down the streets, oddly warm for the time of year and the dark skies. They stopped in briefly at a noodle bar, purchased enough food to feed a small army, and then walked back to Kun’s apartment. It was neater than Doyoung expected considering Ten lived there, but it seemed that Kun kept a firm grip on his home as well as his schedule.

“It’s not your fault, Doyoung,” he said, passing over a bottle of siracha.

Doyoung took the bottle, confused. “What?”

“You were a kid. You didn’t destroy a marriage, the husband did. Sure, you spoke out of turn, but again.” Kun shrugged. “You were a kid. It wasn’t your place to keep their family dynamic as it was, and you couldn’t have understood the implications of the situation. You shouldn’t beat yourself up for ruining a family, because you didn’t. The man who had an affair on his wife ruined his marriage, not you.”

Doyoung blinked. “Oh. Thank you.”

Kun joined him on the couch, smiling briefly before shovelling noodles into his mouth.

He looked cute eating. His cheeks were round, his eyes sparkling. Doyoung couldn’t help but want to cook for him, to make sure that Kun got a full night of rest, a good breakfast in the morning, a kiss after he’d brushed his teeth.

“You act perfect,” Kun said after he’d swallowed his food. He looked at Doyoung, direct and honest. “Other than the occasional hangover, you’re like a beacon of… I don’t know. Comfort? Honesty, at the very least. You’re so composed all of the time.” His smile faded slightly. “Before you took that stupid dance leaflet, you intimidated me a little. For better or for worse, you never apologised for being yourself. I could only hope to have that level of self-belief.”

Doyoung laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Self-belief? Kun, I’m eighty percent cynicism. The only thing I believe in is that everything will go wrong at some point or another.”

“But if everything will go wrong, surely being involved in as much as you can is the best thing to do, right?” Kun asked, eyes bright. “Because if something collapses, you have other supports. You have other options.”

Doyoung frowned. There was a sudden desperation in Kun’s eyes, a need for solidarity in his thinking. “I can understand that to a point, Kun, but what good are all these options if none are making you happy?”

“Some are,” Kun said, quiet. “Some are making me happy.”

“Then keep the ones that are and cut out the rest.” Doyoung grabbed Kun’s hand and found it cold. “In high school I thought being popular was one of the most important things in the world, and when I suddenly wasn’t anymore, it took me a couple of weeks to realise that it had never really mattered. Looking back, it’s nothing more than a learning point. When you look back in ten years, what do you want to see? Will folding laundry for the football team mean anything to you then? Will risk assessments for clubs you aren’t a member of? Or will dates like this matter instead?”

Kun blinked, startled. “This is a date?”

“It could be.” Doyoung took his hand back, only for Kun to snatch it before it could fully retreat. Kun placed it back on his lap, linking their fingers, holding Doyoung like his palm was a lifeline. “I know that life is kind of weird. The world right now is uncertain, and people our age are struggling so much. No one knows what future we’re walking into, and the pressure to do everything you can is getting stronger, the victims are getting younger – I understand that. You can only do your best Kun, and that doesn’t necessarily equate do doing as much as possible.”

Kun looked to the ceiling, eyes a little shiny. “I’m so _stressed,”_ he said. “But I like staying busy. I like helping people.”

Doyoung squeezed Kun’s hand. “I understand,” he said. “I really do. But the people you want to help would want you to be happy and healthy too. Do you think Donghyuck would honestly want you to be ironing his team jerseys if he knew you were losing sleep for it? If Ten knew you were as stressed as you are, do you think he’d leave you to it? He’d be right here, sat beside you, instead of at the bar. It’s not pity. It’s care. We care.”

_I want to kiss you._

“Then do it,” Doyoung breathed.

Kun blinked. “Huh?”

But Doyoung was too impatient to explain, so he moved instead. He pulled his hand away so that he could thread it through Kun’s soft hair, watch the way his dark eyes widened, sparkling in the low light, the way his plush lips parted ever so slightly, expecting but hesitating, too nervous to move.

So Doyoung moved instead. Their lips pressed together, unyielding only for a moment before they melted into one another. Kun smelt of cologne, he tasted like the siracha he’d poured onto his noodles, and his hands were stronger than they looked when they gripped Doyoung’s shoulders and pulled him closer.

And Doyoung’s mind was blissfully blank. He couldn’t hear Kun’s thoughts, he couldn’t hear his own. All he could hear was the quiet noises in Kun’s chest, the hopeful, sweet laughter he let escape when they both turned their heads at the same time and their noses squashed together, their teeth clacking.

Eventually Kun pulled away, his eyes heavy. “I’m tired,” he admitted. “I have been for a long time.”

Doyoung nodded. He pushed his hair out of his face and then pushed Kun back when he tried to kiss Doyoung again. “You need to sleep.”

Kun shook his head, red lips pressed into a pout. “I want to kiss you again. Then I have to fill out those risk assessments.”

Doyoung rolled his eyes. He pressed a chaste kiss to Kun’s mouth. “I’ll fucking help you with the risk assessments now if you swear you’ll sleep when we’re done.”

“Oh, I couldn’t ask that of you, I was the one who said I’d-“

_“Kun.”_

Kun shut up, eyes wide.

“It’s not about burdening me with a stupid risk assessment.” Doyoung tugged on a lock of Kun’s wavy hair. “It’s about me wanting to help you, not because I have to, but because I can, and because I want you to rest. If this is going to work, you need to start valuing yourself and your time a little more highly. I have a feeling we’re going to be arguing anyway, let’s not add another topic to the list.”

Kun smiled, small and amused. “What makes you think we’ll argue?”

“I don’t know. I remember reading in an old teen magazine that Capricorns and Aquarius’ butt heads, so maybe that.” Doyoung shrugged. “Or maybe just because you like teasing me.”

“Everyone likes teasing you, I’m not special in that regard.”

“No,” Doyoung said soft, “But you’re special in other regards. You’re the only person I don’t want to smack for it.”

Kun laughed, loud and sweet, covering his mouth with his hand.

And Hell, Doyoung didn’t expect his evening to include risk assessments for a camping trip he wouldn’t be taking part in, but he still kind of enjoyed it. As things turned out, risk assessments weren’t so bad when they were interrupted every couple of minutes for a mouthful of cold noodles and the lingering kisses that followed.

It was oddly domestic, the way they seemed to fit together. Doyoung quickly learnt the layout of the kitchen, making herbal tea for Kun to take to bed, and when Kun was in his old, worn pyjamas, glasses once again slipping down his nose, Doyoung found himself too weak to reject Kun’s offer of staying the night. In his borrowed pyjamas, he slid under the sheets next to Kun, stealing a sip of his tea as he watched Kun’s eyes begin to drift shut. It was funny in an endearing way, that all it took to get Kun to sleep was a hot drink and lying him down horizontally. For all the complaining, once he was in bed, he was asleep faster than an infant.

He didn’t wake when Ten barged in, closer to dawn than midnight, drunk and giggly and supported almost entirely by Johnny. Kun’s bedroom door was half open, so Ten blew Doyoung a kiss as he passed.

Doyoung waved back, ignoring the way Johnny’s eyebrows danced.

It was only when Ten was tucked into his own room that Johnny peered back in, curious. “Is the dick keeping you awake? Haunting you?”

“If you are the dick, then yes.”

Johnny grinned. “Nice one.” But then his smile faded a little. “But you’re good right? Things went well?”

“They went well,” Doyoung said, eyes sliding down to where Kun was wrapped around his pillow, face soft in the low light. “I’m just thinking.”

“About what?” Johnny asked.

“How lucky I am,” Doyoung said. “To be where I am now, with all of you.”

Johnny shook his head, still smiling. “You’re not lucky,” he said. “You worked for it. You worked to be here, with us.” He looked towards Ten’s room, fond, and then to Kun. “We all worked for it. We all deserve it. Each other.”

“I hope so,” Doyoung replied, quiet.

“None of us are perfect, but that’s not the point of being friends, of being more than friends,” Johnny said, walking forward to drop a gentle kiss to Doyoung’s hair. “The point is that we’re all trying. If you want to deserve this, then keep trying.”

Doyoung looked down at Kun. “I will,” he said, certain.


End file.
